


flame-bright

by beeclaws



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Burns, Desolation Avatar Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Season/Series 04, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, somewhat graphic descriptions of canon burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeclaws/pseuds/beeclaws
Summary: “Do you think I’m like them now?” Tim asks. “Agnes Montague, the statement of the guy she burned.”In an alternate season 4, Tim and Jon discuss their new states.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	flame-bright

“Do you think I’m like them now?” Tim asks. “Agnes Montague, the statement of the guy she burned.” A few months ago, Tim thinks he would have brought up Jude Perry instead, just to rankle Jon - though it’s more than a few months, really. He keeps forgetting to add on seven. A few months ago, both he and Jon had been dead to the world.

“I...I don’t know,” Jon replies, cautious. “Don’t you - haven’t you...found out, since you’ve been back? By - by accident, even, I mean.”

Tim shakes his head. “I think...someone bumped into me on the Tube a couple of weeks back. I’d been going at weird times, less direct routes, to keep away from crowds...just in case, you know?”

Jon gives a minute nod, even as it seems to pain him to do so. 

“Anyway, someone came crashing into me anyway, because it’s the fucking Tube, but I’m not sure if we actually...touched.”

Jon gives him an appraising look tainted slightly with guilt, as if he’s not sure if he has the right anymore to look at Tim and wonder. 

Tim shrugs. “That’s been it, though. And I guess I wouldn’t burn myself no matter what, or being a fire monster would be  _ really  _ inconvenient.”

Jon huffs something like a laugh, but he’s still watching Tim, considering something. Finally, he gets to his feet and rolls up a sleeve, holding out his arm to Tim in silent offering. Jude Perry’s mark is visible on his outstretched hand, and it feels to Tim like an accusation.

“You sure about that, boss?” 

Tim doesn’t move closer. Jon keeps his arm outstretched. “It’ll heal.”

“Or it won’t, if I’m really avatar enough.”

Jon gives a small shrug, as if this is an acceptable risk.

Tim sighs. It’s almost nostalgic, to be back to telling Jon off for not thinking things through. For someone who gives off a constant aura of academia wherever he goes, Jon never seemed to have learned to look before he leaps. “You haven’t been back much longer than me,” Tim points out. “How can you be sure how all this works? How many chances can you have had to test it?”

Jon shrugs again, giving him a small rueful smile. “Life of an Archivist.”

Tim is distracted from his next argument by wondering, just for a moment, if Jon hadn’t...taken it upon himself to test the bounds of his new healing ability. Jon, who hates unsolved puzzles, worries at them until they’re complete, and offered Tim his arm to burn as though it was nothing.

Maybe Jon’s picked up on the direction of his thoughts, because he hastens to clarify. “I’m not asking you to - to go for a full chargrill, or anything,” he protests. “It won’t be like…” He flexes his burned hand. The scar doesn’t really resemble a handprint anymore; the less severe parts around the edges have regrown, leaving only the centre, an almost-bruise like purple expanse. Tim remembers vaguely, from mandatory First Aid courses he half-listened to, that that meant it had gone all the way down through the nerves. Once you burned deep enough through someone’s skin, you could even burn away the part of them that let them feel what you were doing, go deep enough to unmake a little of their pain. If Tim really belongs to the Desolation now, in part or in whole, should he find that beautiful?

Jon shakes his head, coming back to himself. Tim isn’t sure how long they had both stood there, staring at the wreck of Jon’s hand. “Jude, she held on for a long time,” he finishes at last. “You can just...touch, quickly.”

_ And you’d trust me to do that?  _ Tim wants to say.  _ You’d trust me not to just hold on? You?  _ Jon keeps his arm resolutely in place, and Tim lets out a sigh. “You couldn’t have come back from the dead less stubborn?” he asks, but Jon’s expression has turned serious.

“I...I know what it’s like,” Jon offers, not quite meeting his eyes. “To...to no longer understand the fundamental features of your own body. What it lives on, what can cause it harm, what harm it can cause others. It’s…” He sighs, looking up at Tim at last. “It’s not something I’d wish on anyone else. Isn’t it better to find out here, now, rather than...accidentally scarring some poor commuter?”

“Commuters deserve everything they get,” Tim answers immediately, and when Jon smiles he knows he’s sunk. He takes two careful steps towards him, giving Jon an opportunity to back out that he knows he won’t take. He brings his hand up to hover inches from Jon’s skin.

“Feel anything?” he murmurs.

Jon shakes his head. “Just do it,” he says, voice hushed to match Tim’s. But he doesn’t do the obvious thing and push his arm into Tim’s hand. That’s...Tim doesn’t know what that is.

Slowly, carefully, Tim lowers his thumb until it brushes against the fine hairs on Jon’s arm. Nothing happens, nothing burns, so he lets it fall the rest of the way, the pads of his fingers landing at last on Jon’s cool skin. Jon lets out a breath, but he doesn’t recoil or gasp in pain. The sound reminds Tim that he should probably start breathing again, some time soon.

“You’re...you’re a little warm,” Jon murmurs. 

“Always did run hot.” Tim doesn’t know how to process his own relief. He’s touching someone. He’s touching someone and they aren’t hurt. He curls his fingers around Jon’s wrist, marveling that he can. They’re both alive, and not yet too far gone to have this.

“Don’t…” Tim starts, voice soft, “don’t go offering yourself up for people to test their powers on, yeah? There are better ways to help people.”

“Are there?” Jon asks, looking up to meet his eyes, and it makes Tim realise how close they’re standing. The vulnerability in Jon’s gaze is almost painful, this close up. “Can I - can I still-”

The question hovers between them. Tim doesn’t know if there’s a hint of that strange static in the air, or if he’s just...Jon is so close, so real, so alive. He takes his other hand and cups the side of Jon’s face. He touches and it doesn’t burn, doesn’t break, doesn’t ruin. Jon’s eyes flutter shut then open again, as if he can’t bear not to see. Tim can’t see how destruction could be beautiful compared with this. 

Jon leans up to meet him, and Tim feels a fire in his chest that doesn’t belong to anything but them. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I was trying to write a different jontim fic and I couldn't stop thinking about these two kissing, and then this happened in like...around an hour, so please forgive any clumsiness
> 
> I will be [over here](https://karliahs.tumblr.com) thinking about jontim regardless of what is happening in canon, constantly, forever. Feel free to come say hi and/or prompt me for jontim kiss scenarios


End file.
